Because I am Kur
by The Writers Notebook
Summary: I don't budge when they lock me away. I don't budge when they torture me, when they try to drive the spirrit of Kur out of me. And of course it never works. Because I am Kur. [ONESHOT] [rated for depression]


I _am_ Kur.

It's how it is. It's not like I have a choise. But my family hates me over it...

They can go straight to hell. I don't need them.

As I make my way over to the bar, I grab ten bucks out of my pocket and place them in front of the waitress currently standing behind it.

"Ya got enough, Zak?" She asks. This is my regular place ever since I was forced to leave my family. I eat here every night, never more then a sandwich though. Mina is the girl standing behind the bar. She's about my age, which is fifteen, and works here because her parents own the place.

"Yeah. see you tommorow." I tell her. She flashes me a smile which I don't return, and then I walk out of the small restaurant.

It's cold out in the streets, so I hug my black jacket around me. I can feel the presence of more then one cryptid. The Naga's are still using cryptids to keep an eye on me, but it doesn't matter.

My parents, the whole world, slapped me in the face. They might have started the fight, but even now I won't finish it. The Naga's can keep an eye on me all they want, but I'm not going to be their big leader.

I walk down the streets untill I get to the appartment building I live in. I live here with some other kids that I don't know a damn thing about except that they're pretty nice now. I know their first names, I know who they are now... their past is a mystery to me, as is mine to them.

That's probably for the best anyway. In a while I'll be gone and they won't miss me, because all they really knew about me was that I was Zak, the boy that they allowed to stay with them when they met him as a twelve year old boy on the streets, dieing of hunger.

I have known ever since then that there would be a day that I would have to leave. The day is fastly aproaching now.

I've been on the news last week, when I was trying to stop a cryptid from wrecking a shop. My parents... the Saturdays probably saw it, and they will be coming after me soon. Now that they know where I am, it won't be long.

I enter the building and go straight up to the appartement I share with Harold. All I know about the guy is that something happened in which he got a scar on his eye, similiar to Doc's, but without being blind, and that he has a great sence of humor.

When I walk up the stairs to the second floor, I almost walk into Elina.

She's the only person I actually know something about. When she was ten, her mother died giving birth to her brother. Her father then became abusive. After having killed her brother, the man tried to do the same to the girl. In a state of panic, Elina trew an empty bottle of wine at him.

It hit his head, and he then fell backwards into the fireplace. Because he was passed out from the hit off the bottle, he burnt alive. Elina had been sentenced for murder, but had somehow managed to escape. She ended up here a month before I did.

She actually told me this herself, and I'm the only one that knows. You would think that, to be fair, I'd tell her my story too. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

"Hey Elina." I tell her with a small smile, she gives one back, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Elina never shows emotions, the only time I've ever seen her show some was when she told me about her past.

"Hello Zak, how have you been doing today?" she asks.

She's the closest thing I have to a friend around here, so I anwser truthfully: "Crappy."

"Why is that?"

"I hate being bored."

Her smile to that is slightly more real, but still lacks of emotion. "That truely is too bad. I am afraid I must go now, though. I will see you tomorrow."

I give her a firm nod, before continueing on to my appartement.

As soon as I close the door behind me, I break down.

I don't know how I end up on the ground in my room, I just do. I can do nothing but sit there, and stare out at nothing blankly. My eyes finally find the picture on the table next to my bed. That picture is the only possesion, other then my clothes, that I have which is truely mine.

It's a picture of my family.

I can pretend and think all I want at day to keep myself from breaking down in front of everyone out there, but I still miss them.

* * *

><p>I am discovered at my appartement by the Saturdays three weeks later. I don't budge when they lock me away. I don't budge when they torture me, when they try to drive the spirrit of Kur out of me.<p>

And of course it never works.

Because I _am_ Kur.

* * *

><p><strong>Really don't know where this came from, and I really don't care.<strong> **All I do hope is that you enjoyed this. I do not own the Secret Saturdays.**


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